


You Never Know Who Might Be Hungry

by TheScythian



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood!, Dubious Consentacles, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Humiliation and Praise Kinks, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Lesbians in Space, Like- How are you going to really appreciate that praise if you haven't been humiliated first?, Murder, No beta- We die like crewmates!, Okay- It's NOT dubcon but it's still pretty manipulative, Praise Kink, Tentacle Sex, There's so much blood..., They're two sides of the same smexy coin to me, This was going to be a PWP but then story started to happen against my better wishes, Upgraded to Explicit in Chapter 3- Skip to there if you're just here for the porn, Verbal Humiliation, did i mention blood?, i'm getting off topic, ok. I'll tag them properly but I'm not sure it’s enough to count. I’m probably just doubting myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScythian/pseuds/TheScythian
Summary: Cyan goes out for a little nighttime sabotage and finds something... unexpected.
Relationships: Crewmate/Impostor (Among Us), Cyan/Red (Among Us)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a very long time since I've written anything. (I know everyone says that.) But a few weeks ago I saw this adorable Among Us fan art (I can't remember the artist or I would reference it here) and the thought of it danced around in my head until this came out. This is NOT adorable. I'm sorry for that. 
> 
> I do promise to regularly update until it's finished. There's nothing worse than an abandoned fic.

The thing about Red was her laugh— it was loud and honest and showed all of her teeth. Her cute little teeth, so blunt and tiny. How could teeth like that be practical for anything? And what would teeth like that feel like against skin? .... Was a ridiculous question that Cyan definitely didn’t think about, alone in her bunk at night.

Cyan had been tasked with taking out the crew of The Skeld and she was definitely going to get around to it, eventually. The crew’s mission had taken them over a year out from the nearest port, so why rush? The humans may be bizarre little aliens with ridiculous traditions and taboos but at least they were company. Besides, she had always enjoyed getting to know her prey before consuming it. Call Cyan a gourmand, but context is a delectable condiment.

Red would almost certainly be a dessert. Special and savored, and so confident that it was kind of intimidating but in a way that made you want to be around her, and dessert. Obviously dessert and nothing more.

Rolled onto her back, Cyan’s ponytail dug painfully into the back of her head; she remembered that she was supposed to take her hair down when sleeping. This was ridiculous. There were just too many little things to remember. She had been training as an Imposter for the better part of five years but still, the minutiae of the act evaded her.

Exasperated, she rolled out of bed (but not “rolled” out—she’d only make that mistake once!) and ducked into the vents that twisted through walls and floors of the ship. Nighttime sabotaging was always a good cure for self-doubt.

Crawling on hands and knees as she approached her destination, the cold metal of the vent’s bottom stung Cyan’s palms and she relished in the feeling. Sharp sensations were the best part about this body. She never wanted to get over the way that it jumped at loud noises or burned when cut. So what if she wasn’t great with social cues, had to endure eating salads, and complain about “Mondays”? There were still some quite lovely things about living on the ship. And now it was time to fuck with its lights.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” A male voice broke through the floor and froze Cyan to her spot underneath Electrical’s grate.

Lime? Fuck! Why was he awake? It was night, right? Yes. Of course it was. She couldn’t have messed that up. The 24-hour clock was rookie stuff.

“What can I say? You see right through me,” a sultry woman’s voice responded. Red? Crap, was that Red’s voice? Crap. Fuck. Shit. Damn. (Human swear words were another wonderful thing about this assignment.) And did she actually sound turned on? This was bad. Cyan considered her options.

Maybe she could go back? But the vents were too tight to turn around in and even trying to scoot backwards would make more noise than she was comfortable with. She could stay hidden and wait until they left. But the idea of listening to the rest of whatever _this_ was… Why did it have to be Lime? He was the worst! Cyan didn’t need to be the focus of Red’s affections (and why would she want it to be?) but him?

“I am a little surprised though. I didn’t peg you for the type who enjoys trysts in dusty closets. But you should know, I’ve got a not-so-little surprise for you too,” Lime’s voice oozed.

Nononononononono. Abort. Situation critical. Why hadn’t Cyan insisted on having a suicide capsule implanted in one of her teeth?

“Oh, I’m sure. But before that,” Red’s voice took a mock-innocent tone. “I have one more. Let me go first.”

Lime began to chuckle but the sound quickly morphed into a choking wet croak followed by a heavy thud. What could only be an arterial spray hit the grating and drops of blood splattered Cyan’s face. The familiarity of the feeling did nothing to dull the shock or quiet the involuntary gasp that escaped her.

“Hello? Do we have someone else in here?” Red’s voice maintained its playful inflection. Cyan’s muscles tensed, as the sound of workboots on wet tile approached her vent. Backing her way out was the obvious next move but her joints had locked. Her once delightfully chilly limbs now burned and pulsed.

“Hi there.” Red was directly above her now. Slowly raising her head, Cyan forced her gaze to move quickly over the knife held at the ready in Red’s hand, intent not to linger on it.

“Cy!” Red’s eyes lit up and her smile beamed with genuine happiness, blunt little teeth on display. “Thank god it’s you. Honestly, I was really not ready to deal with two bodies tonight.” She squatted down to the partition. “What the fuck are you doing down there?”

“You killed Lime!” She stuttered. And internally, “And for what? You’re not an Imposter. I’ve run your scans myself. I’ve watched you enjoy salad!”

“Yes.” Red’s face took a serious expression. “I needed to.”

“What? Why?”

“Mm.” She quirked her head to the side. “It’s complicated.” And after a pause, “Do you trust me?”

“No!” What the hell?

Red rolled her eyes, bent over, and put the knife on the ground. She curled her fingers around the bars at her feet and grunted as she pulled up. “Help me with this.”

Cyan put her palms to the metal and made the appearance of forcefully pushing. Its significant weight was nothing to her, but Red didn’t need to know that. The grate slid to the side, still warm blood lubricating its path.

Red offered a sticky hand to the figure below her. Reluctantly, Cyan took it and levered herself out of the duct. If it were possible, things looked even grislier from the new angle.

Lime’s body lay crumpled under an open electrical panel. Cyan knew she was imagining her own interpretation but his open eyes still seemed terrified. The blood coming from the gash across his neck had slowed to a trickle but the flickering overhead lights gave it the impression of a stronger flow.

She had seen so many dead bodies over the course of her career—Caused them. Why did this one make her feel guilty? Why couldn’t she look away?

“He was an asshole, right?” Red’s calm voice broke the silence.

“Uh. Yeah.” He _was_ an asshole. Cyan was pretty sure they hadn’t had a single conversation when he hadn’t interrupted her, or tried to tell her how to do her job, or made a joke at her expense. She could count on no fingers the number of times Lime had been a valuable crewmate.

“He was always pushing Yellow. The number of times I would come into O2 and he would be standing right behind her — _directly_ behind her, Cy— and saying the most obnoxious things.”

“Yeah, he’s a shit. But...” His skin was already turning gray.

“So I come into our dorm one day and she’s torn it apart. And she’s laying on her bed and just says, ‘I can’t do a year with him.’ Her voice was so exhausted.”

Cyan tried to breathe evenly, to make her eyes blink. It was important to keep those wet. Wet eyes, wet mouth, dry skin. Drink eight glasses of water. Eat three human meals a day. Be friendly but not too friendly. Get to know the crew for fun; kill the crew for work; eat the crew for survival.

Red took the silence and an invitation to continue. “And I thought, of course she shouldn’t have to work beside him for a year. He may not be doing anything physical but he’s mentally destroying her. And I could fix that. I could stop that.”

Finally managing that blink, Cyan shook herself out of shock and turned to Red. “The crew will put you in the brig. They’re going to put you away from m--everyone and you’ll be turned over to the Board when we arrive and you’ll probably be executed because that’s what they do and you’ll die, Red!” Why was this so upsetting?

“Shhh. Hey come here,” Red reached for Cyan’s arm and gently caressed it for a moment before drawing her hand down and entwining their fingers, pulling her closer. “It’ll be okay. I’m not going to die because I’m not going to take the fall. There’s an Imposter on board.”

Cyan’s heart stopped while the floor seemed to drop out from under her.

“You, Cy. You’ll take the fall for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As previously mentioned, this is my first fic in a long time (and only my second one ever). If you liked it, please leave a comment. I really need encouragement because (I'm not sure if you've noticed but) life is kinda fucked up right now and I need every hit of serotonin I can get.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late and so short. Work's been crazy. I promise I'll be better even if I have to write during meetings. 
> 
> Also, yes- I changed the title. All of the best fics are named after Mountain Goats lyrics, why shouldn't mine be?

Cyan didn’t feel like she was technically in any danger of becoming alcoholic. You needed to have a real human liver, she was pretty sure. Still, addiction was something she was familiar with. A woolen blanket; simultaneously comforting and unbearably scratchy. And after taking her third shot of something brown from one of the many bottles in her desk cabinet, she was starting to reconsider her initial assumption.

She and Red had relocated to the Medbay; it was marginally safer to be caught there after waking-hours had ended. Significantly safer, considering Lime’s body was still laying on the floor of Electrical with an extra hole in it. And it had booze.

“How did you know?” Cyan’s voice was nearly monotone, tinged more with melancholy than fear or shock. Maybe she had exhausted her adrenaline; maybe the alcohol was starting to work. Either way, staring into the bottom of another shot seemed depressingingly more appealing than looking at the actual threat sitting next to her on a hospital gurney. 

The warm and soft threat reached towards her and gently pulled the glass away from her face.

“This isn’t even any good,” Red mocked, scrunching her nose and moving the cup to the bedside table. “Do all Imposters have a hard time mimicking taste buds?”

“I know it’s not good!” Cyan surprised herself with her own intensity but like hell was Red going to criticize her right now.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood,” she soothed.

“Lighten the mood? You’re blackmailing me.” Cyan awkwardly shuffled herself down from the gurney and headed back to the mini-bar in her desk. The glider of the filing drawer screeched as metal scraped against metal. The glass bottles clanked, violent and discordant as they collided with each other. 

Red flinched and sighed. “I prefer to think of it as just a threat. Though I suppose that _is_ just a different word for ‘blackmail,’ in our case.”

“ _Just_ a threat? You’re pinning a murder on me!” Cyan’s adrenaline spiked again. These stupid human brain chemicals were so much more difficult to regulate than her own. She felt dizzy and sick.

“On an Imposter,” Red corrected. 

“ **I am** the Imposter!” 

“No, you’re Cyan, the Skeld’s doctor. Who knows who the Imposter is,” she tutted. “Look, what’s the big deal here? You were going to kill him anyway. You were going to kill all of us. And I assume you’re still going to try to kill all of us. I just got the ball rolling for you.”

Why was she throwing that in her face? Yes, that had been the plan. But there had been an elegance to it. A series of small tactical moves in one battle of a much larger war. And goddamnit, Cyan did still need to kill everyone. Her mission hadn’t changed.

“If the ball is rolling, why shouldn’t I just kill you?” Cyan steadied her voice.

Red held back for a moment before snorting and breaking into genuine laughter. The one that showed all of her beautiful blunt teeth. “Oh my god, you sound like a bad movie!” Her light brown eyes were bright against the dried blood on her face, cracking in the laugh lines of her face. “I mean, I guess you could but I don’t think you will—for now at least. For one, you’re attracted to me and I’m not going to lie, that’s really doing things for my ego.”

Cyan tried to keep her facial expressions neutral and hoped any sudden flush would be attributed to the liquor. She knew better.

“But also, I don’t think you really _want_ to kill anyone. I’ve been a Sky Marshal on five different ships with Imposters and none of them waited six months (and counting!) to start eating people, Cy. It’s weird! Look, I’m sure this isn’t your first rodeo; I’m not trying to imply that you’re not good at what you do.”

“I don’t know what a rodeo is,” Cyan mumbled, abandoning the liquor drawer and crumpling into the office chair beside her.

“It just doesn’t seem like your heart is in it.”

“So what’s your plan then? We shout ‘Ah, an Imposter!’ and then continue on with a more paranoid version of life as it was? Then eventually, when I do have to kill you guys, I get tossed out an airlock?”

Red tilted her head and grinned. The hardened blood in her usually-blonde hair had created ringlets that bounced against her shoulder when she moved. “I was thinking we continue on with a more _fun_ version of life. Then when you need to kill, you do. Whether or not you get tossed out an airlock after that—If I’m still alive, I’ll see what I can do.” Red slid off of the gurney. The fabric of her jumpsuit rustled, hips swaying confidently as she approached Cyan.

“The rules of my job are as simple as yours,” she continued, reaching the chair and turning it to face her. “When we land, I either need to have evidence that there was no threat on board or that I took care of one. We have plenty of time to decide what I tell the Board.” 

“That doesn’t sound fun,” Cyan’s breath caught in the back of her throat, her eyes trapped in Red’s intensity.

After pushing a few loose strands of hair behind Cyan’s ear, Red used the opportunity to cup the back of her neck. She leaned down slowly until Cyan could feel the soft of their cheeks against each other and the wet heat of Red’s breath against her ear as she whispered, “I can make it fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of the porn is probably coming right up. Sorry, I shouldn't make you wait! ... Unless that's what you like? 
> 
> Anyway, how do you guys feel about ladies with tentacles? Yea or nay? I'll take this whichever direction you want.
> 
> Please leave a comment. I need the encouragement like Cyan needs a supportive therapist.


	3. Chapter 3

“When _was_ the last time you had fun, Cy?” 

Cyan’s body flushed hot; the soft thick of lips brushed her ear as Red pulled back to examine the effect of her words. The empty space left behind felt flat and lifeless; she had taken it all with her. Cyan’s muscles tensed against the pull of the other woman’s gravity. Her muscles hummed and the flesh at midsection pulsed. She swallowed in a dry mouth and set to work attempting to control the confusing signals rushing throughout her makeshift nervous system.

 _Metabolize the ethanol._ She was being used; that was obvious.

 _Depress levels of dopamine._ To continue to think of Red as the alluring girl with a pretty laugh was dangerous wish fulfillment.

 _Increase production of vasopressin._ Even then, hadn’t she always been the enemy? Hadn’t she been the prey?

“Hey, come back to me.” Red placed a gentle hand against her cheek, nudging her out of the trance. 

Cyan leaned into the palm. She wanted to fall into that soft gesture and live there, safe and cared for until the universe went dark. If only it didn’t feel like a betrayal of everything she was.

“Cy, this will be good for you,” she assured tenderly. “I can help you if you let me.”

Red bent forward and touched her blood-dried forehead to Cyan’s. The earthy metallic scent mingled with the dense lavender of her perfume. Cyan closed her eyes and tried to suppress the thought that it paired well, that it seemed designed specifically for her own appreciation. It broke her.

A mouth touched hers but instead of a kiss, it took Cyan’s lower lip between its teeth. Blunt teeth that pressed and pinched before a wet tongue soothed the bite. Did she do this to Lime before she slit his throat? Cyan’s amygdala released a tidal wave of glutamate, fear and yearning entwined and indistinguishable. Cyan heard a plaintive sigh leave her own treacherous lips. Controlling her stupid body was a losing war.

“You need help? Okay. I can work with that.” Red began to work her mouth down Cyan’s frame, kissing, biting, and sucking in a maddening pattern, pulling and pushing clothing out of her way until she approached the hem of Cyan’s shirt and the pink scar-like line bisecting her abdomen. Reaching the mark, she pushed the offending shirt up against Cyan’s breasts and ran a flattened tongue along the length of the puckered tissue.

Cyan’s eyes flew open. “No. Nononono,” she stuttered, trying to squirm back and pull her shirt down.

Red was composed. Kneeling on the floor at her feet, she wrinkled her nose, amused. “Oh, my sweet Cyan! You’ve never had a human touch you there before?” She seemed positively delighted.

“No- no, I don’t. I haven- I- It’s not that- **I’m supposed to eat you!** ”

“Later, if you’re good,” Red winked (she fucking winked!) at her.

Cyan could only mutely stare, mortified.

“Hesitant to kill; doesn’t fuck. Wait, _**is**_ this your first assignment?” She ran a fingertip across the fabric covering the scored flesh; the Imposter’s nerves danced.

“No, I-” Cyan felt the need to defend herself but struggled to come up with anything that wouldn’t come out impossibly naïve. 

Red flatted her palm against Cyan’s middle before raking her fingers in, knotting the offending shirt in her fist. “If we’re going to continue- If you want me to fuck you, I’m going to have to hear you say it.”

Cyan’s pupils dilated. The oxygen was sucked from her lungs and every part of her burned with self awareness. Red was on her knees in front of her, drawing her in like a black hole waiting to devour. Patient for the inevitable.

“I want you to fuck me,” Cyan’s voice cracked.

“Most human cultures require a ‘please’ when making a request like that.”

“Please, I want you to fuck me,” she keened.

Red gave an encouraging nod, obviously requiring more.

Cyan vibrated with shame and desire. “Please, Red. I need to feel you. I need you to teach me. I need you. Please, please fuck me.”

“Oh, Cy. That was so pretty.” Using the shirt like a tether, Red pulled Cyan to the edge of the chair. “Take this off.” 

Cyan pulled the fabric over her head, eager to please. Eager to show she could be good at something.

Red hummed and rose back up to replicate her mouth’s previous journey across Cyan. This time she paused at her breasts, scraping with her teeth and sucking bruises into the skin, using her hand to massage and pinch. Cyan moaned and hissed against the combatting sensations.

The Imposter moved to pull Red closer, to entwine her fingers in her hair and feel the stickiness of the gore and sweat damp in her curls when Red pulled back. Grabbing Cyan’s wrists and pinning them to the seat sternly, “Not yet. You haven’t earned me yet.”

Embarrassed and desperate, Cyan nodded in quick understanding. Red smiled at her pupil and returned to place small kisses down a trail of tender skin and burst capillaries. Reaching the top of Cyan’s mark, she paused and hovered over the skin, her breath leaving goosebumps along the uneven tissue. She ran her hands down Cyan’s sides, covering every curve and dimple, pulling her body closer but keeping her mouth just far enough away.

Tears prickled in Cyan’s eyes. “Please,” she whimpered.

With ferocity, Red pressed her mouth to the pink line and kissed, pressing her tongue into it with a passionate need. Cyan gasped at the penetration, her body lurching forward and finally pulling her off the chair. She landed on her knees, Red moving back to give her room before closing in again. This time, her mouth on Cyans and her hand against the newly parted flesh. 

Cyan returned the kiss with breathy need, savoring the remains of tangy blood and doing her best to keep her hands from roaming.

Red’s hand pushed inside the tight space, her fingers splayed and curling and extending until she found her target and grasped. Cyan cried out at the intensity and began rapidly nodding, words lost to her.

Red smirked; maintaining her hold on the organ, she used her other arm to guild Cyan flat against the floor. “I thought you said you wanted this.” Her voice dripped with disappointment.

Cyan’s breath faltered, confused and terrified Red would stop. “Please, I do.”

“Once again: all words, no action. Show me,” Red admonished.

Cyan realized with embarrassment exactly what she intended, nodded and relaxed the muscles inside herself. Slowly she extended the tendrils inside her until they peaked out of her human imitation and vined up the start of Red’s forearm. Thick wet blood slicked the tentacles and she flushed with self-consciousness, ready to assure the other woman that they were supposed to do that but Red’s smile wasn’t surprised or timid.

“Good girl.” Red released her grip and withdrew her hand, standing up. Cyan felt empty, her tendrils flailing around empty air.

“Oh, calm down Cy. I’m coming back.” Standing beside the Imposter’s form, she pulled her ruined shirt over her head and continued to watch Cyan as she undressed. “Touch yourself.”

Cyan’s palms felt sweaty as she unstuck them from the tile floor and grasped the thickest tentacle at its base. She tried not to whimper as she pulled and twisted at her wet flesh. Doing her best to keep eye contact with Red and not shy away. This was what she wanted, after all. Red wanted to _see_ her. 

The thought was almost too overwhelming and she had to break the stare, but Red didn’t criticize her for it. Instead she knelt down and curled her fingers beneath the cloth of Cyan’s underwear and began to pull them off, along with the base of her jumpsuit. 

Fully naked in a body only partially hers, she squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to dampen intensity of her stimulation.

“Open,” Red corrected. When she did, Red was above her, a knee on either side of her midsection, trademark smirk across her face. “Put your hands down and stay still.”

Cyan’s breath hitched as she quickly obeyed and Red’s hands replaced her own, pulling the tentacles up and pointed towards her. With a terrible slowness, Red positioned her own wet folds on top of Cyan and lowered herself onto the shaft, fractions at a time.

The inside of Red was tight and slick, and clench around her gently. She felt her large tendril curl in on itself to fill every space available to it. Red trembled as she took its length, finally meeting the base of Cyan’s abdomen, pausing only a moment before starting to rise again.

Once she had reached the top, Red reached behind herself, this time grabbing one of Cyan’s smaller members and pressing its tip to her ass. The friction of resistance as she pressed herself down again was like nothing Cyan had ever felt. She plaintively sobbed as Red, powerful and confident, began to ride her. Envelope her. 

Each motion stirred something new. Each pulse around Cyan’s tentacles felt like cleansing fire, felt like plasma in her veins. Still she craved more. She needed to feel every inch of skin and hear every sound Red’s voice could make. She needed to be completely consumed by this amazing woman, hopelessly lost to everything else.

Red bent her body closer to Cyan and finally grabbed her hands, pulling them up to her breasts. Eager to prove herself, Cyan tried to copy the ministrations Red showed her earlier, pinching and massaging the nipples hard beneath her palms, leaving crimson handprints on olive skin. And Red began to moan. 

The beautiful noise echoed in the room as Red reached her hand behind her back and found Cyan’s cunt, wet and needy for something she’d never had. Sliding two fingers in and pressing her palm to her clit, Red continued to rock herself atop the tentacles filling her whole. Both women shuddered and sobbed as orgasms wracked their bodies. 

Coming down from her euphoria, Red slowed her movements and exhausted, rolled onto the floor next to the gorey body of the Imposter. Cyan allowed herself to close her eyes again, this time to hold on to the bliss of the moment, content with the warmth of the woman beside her.

“So are you okay with the blackmail now?” Red’s voice cut through the companionable silence.

Reality began to return to the room, unwelcome. “I... guess?” Not really, but there wasn’t really another option as far as Cyan could see. Red had been right, she probably couldn’t bring herself to kill her.

“Good. Because I’d like to add sex clean-up to the deal.” She chipperly pat Cyan’s chest, before rising off the floor, gathering her clothes, and leaving a trail of bloody footprints trailing out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first attempt at writing smut! I hope I did okay. (Please tell me I did okay.)
> 
> Also, I hope it wasn't too obvious that I have no idea how brain chemistry works and spent an unexpected amount of time googling about science for the sake of getting off. You're welcome.
> 
> As far as the story goes, now that the first sex scene is out of the way, I think I actually know where I'm going! Which means new characters, new twists, and new murders. Hooray!
> 
> I might also go back and clean up the writing in the first two chapters. Who knows. Life's a mystery.


End file.
